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Maria Mitea Jun 2021
We are here,
no matter what, we are here,
never stop,

We are here to try and

If the desire for life is not burning inside your heart
go in the flower fields, lie down in the green grass
deepen your hands în the black earth,
squeeze its juices,
let it drain through your fingers,
meet the sun rising, lt it be your guiding light
flow with the waves of the sea, give a hug to someone
and dream, dream, dream ...


if we are tempted, We can try again,
if help is needed, We can help,
We can share, if the heart opens for sharing,
if we are tempted, We can try one more time

all We do here is try ...
never give up, life is about trying
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Red hair fell like fire
on her thin shoulders.
Her wide, open eyes, now
seemed sunken in, and sadness,
for a moment, lingered there.
This was her last night on earth.
She again, ran through the events
that took place earlier that night.
When she was with him, in the back
of the Impala.
Images of the car's windows glossed with a
sheen of steam, blazed across her mind.
A smile blazed across her face.
She thought of his smile and her own widened.
She thought of the way he touched her, so gently,
like a feather moving over her. The way he left kisses
in a trail across her skin. The way he held her, as if
nothing on the earth could ever take her away.
Not in that moment.
But there are more than the kind
and protecting angels in this world. There are
demons. But even so, worse are the angels that
have turned their backs on heaven and now
work for the forces of evil.
The angels that would tear their comrades
from this world.
The angels

Black as dark as night.
Black as dark as the inner
reaches of the earth.
Black as dark as death itself.
Black like blood.
Red as deep as warm, copper veins.
Red as deep as magma beneath
the earth.
Red as deep as rage at the sign
of betrayal.
Red like smoke.
Splashes of agony and hatred and
remorse stained his tattered soul.
A true evil radiated from his
vessel. A crafty and
malicious essence raced through his veins.
But he was no Lucifer.
Somewhere, deep down,
there was still a man who
longed to be loved. A man
who longed to be forgiven of his cruel
mistakes in his past life. Deep down, there
was still a man who longed to come back to
the light.
In a world so dark as his, the only light was the fire,
which should have brought comfort, but only
brought pain.
Deep down, he liked the dark.

Hair like threads of spun gold
tangled around her face. She was fair with
bright blue eyes that held
hues as heavenly as the sun-beaten
Soft, angular cheekbones sloped gently
down, a tinge of pink, coloring them slightly.
Locks of her wavy hair met her shoulders
but beneath her fair
appearance, she was a
rough girl.
A hunter.
She had seen things most terrible in the world,
thinks that no one should ever see.
And still, he remained a
loving mother and a kind person
in spite of
her demons.

Echoes of a former friend
rang throughout his
conscious mind.
Mischievous and
sinister laughter danced
around in his head like demons
howling and gibbering in
the night.
He could feel his brother's presence
and the angel too,
but felt only more unnerved
because he knew he was the
only one who could hear the voices.
Another shrill scream pierced
his ears and he ducked, holding
his head between two shaking palms.
Bright flashes of color exploded at
the corners of his vision and danced
around his eyes like a psychedelic
He went spiraling again in his mind and
every color blinked out, like a light.
Everything went dark as the psychotic laughter
echoed throughout

Over the hill moved a creature, round and
Glowing with a cold, white light.
Like a spectacular
It had hundreds and hundreds of
Eyes in every imaginable color, faceted
Like jewels that covered wheels within wheels of
It’s spherical body.
It was an infinite series of intersecting
Rings that spun constantly in
All directions.
Like a gyroscope.
The rings looked like steel but
The substance was
Pearlescent and, like an oil slick,
Contained all of the rainbow within it.
Steel-like whips caressed the ground
And skies as it moved.
And at its center stood two
Wings, upright.
Feathers made from the metallic
Material rippled in the air. Around the wings pooled a
Sticky, warm light. A sheen of phosphorescent light coated the
Feathers and pooled around the wings.

Through the windshield, the soft
glow of a solitary streetlight glistened
over his cheekbones
and poured down
his jaw that had grown taught from
rapt contemplation.
His coarse, sandy-brown hair, was messed
from his last tango with a monster.
Brilliant flecks of gold danced around in
his hazel eyes,
entwining with years of past remorse and
echoes of both sad and happy memories of
being on the road.
He kept a firm hold of the wheel, gently guiding the
old muscle car down the road.
Tears prickled behind his gorgeous, tired eyes,
but didn't dare escape.  The plastic army
soldier stared him down, but he
could pay him little mind.
His brother, riding shotgun, slept
sitting upright, his long, chocolate locks
covering his eyes as he dreamt with
his forehead
against the cool window.

A luminescent beauty radiated from him.
Behind his tattered vessel's eyes, a blazing
light shined like a beacon in the night.
The fury of a thousand suns, and
the beauty of a million moons.
The bright and morning star.
The most magnificent in all of the angels,
yet far more dark than any demon.
Sinfully exquisite.
Those who say he has horns have never
looked upon his countenance, for the gems
faceted there rival the colors of the morning skies.
And a voice like silk, soft as the
timid pulse,
a voice that could lead you to your own destruction.
Hands both so gelid and searing, you'd quiver
at the touch.
Hands that have brought so many to their death.
These poems were written in 2016. They were inspired by the characters of the widely popular CW Series, Supernatural.
You, you had me hooked from the very first, the very first moment,
Stories of Peter Pan running in my head,
We flew away and had times of the greatest value,
Now here I am, stuck in this tragic place,
Under the ground of a trainstation,
Like the punished soul of that Anna you missed,
A russian girl you'll never forget.

You, you had me hooked from the very beginning,
Our eyes met only for a short recognition,
Only then I knew who she was to you
And what I meant all along.
Max Neumann Dec 2019
your warm heart
is the pulse of my life

the sweetest speech is when
i speak to you anna

my salvation
my destiny

the sweetest blood is
your blood anna

your warm heart
is the pulse of my life

the pulse of my life
is your warm heart

my savior
my salvation

the pulse of our lifes
are our hearts

travel with me
i will take you away

forever anna
anna forever

a: absolute love
n: neverlanddreams
n: no other woman
a: absolute love

your name is a

your reflection a


and this white page has become a bole
our lovenames are engraved in wood

and wood never sinks in water
nothing more to add, baby
Joshua Jackson Nov 2019
Luminescent skin, spiralling layers pressed
From inside the curling dagger pollen;
Violin strings draw forth the butterflies
Towards their fate, cerberus lips clasp
Wings of dafodil— spotty mossy green
Outcrosses the budded red drooping dead;
Akashic run, like that of a waterfall
Whence rippling pendulums row,caught infinitely.

Glowing stem— seperating to laughing claws
and mandalas paused along fully harmonious crease;
All falls back to fungal soil underground
For which all life is magnetically supported:
Prestine exoskeleton, flaming bones
that weavith skyward with ancestral ghost
softly chasing, having foundated their creator.

Blonde hair binding split petals via waves
  Of furious vibrations, snapped calm and quiet.

Mature flesh and bone, whom let the pencil
Move over pale canvas—
'I picture a clock that's arms spin fire
Outward. '
Poor woman, legless two years
Prior to her deathday— wonderous harbinger
Who once, overwhelmed by the menial day to day,
let pencil fall,skim and form
   and reform

Beautifying the world -- lonely, bold and brave
Her mind image caught, fished through the haze

And etched for the rest of time to forget.
Tribute to an amazing Czech artist
Lighter Jul 2019
One of the hardest parts to hide
Is when people ask how I did it,
"Oh you look so great!
How did you do it?"
How do I explain that after dropping 25kgs,
That the way I did it, is not safe.
The I only eating when its been 3 days,
And I'm starting to get to dizzy
And I can't even think when it comes to work.
How do I explain that I have a war going on inside my head
That I told her, and it helped
But almost made it worse
Now I'm lying to her
I tell her I'm eating,
Even when I've lost another 2kgs
I'll tell her I'm fine,
That I'm doing okay
Just as long as she doesn't see my hands shaking
I'll hide my body under over sized tops
And I'll doing my make up just right
So she can't see how tired I really am
For now I'll hide
Because I'm not ready to give Anna up yet.
How can you contain a storm
Because I've tried all these years
I've deprived myself of all things
Just to keep my mind clear
It seems like it's getting worse
I can't help but be frozen with fear
I just wanted to build a snowman
But I have to miss it every year
For once I want to let go
Of these gloves, my mental chains
If I suppress it, it only grows
I don't want to hurt her again
I'm afraid of keeping this coldness inside
That it will stay and freeze my heart too
Alone and afraid, trying to maintain this lie
When was the last time I said anything true?
I'm afraid of myself most of all
How can I fit in this society?
When I cannot be who I am
Without remorse, rejection and anxiety
I'm afraid the longer I'm away from her
I'll lose my last bit of warmth
That I will soon be cold-hearted
Then I will never stop the storm
Emma Hill May 2018
Her bookshelf to the brim and bursting
With pages worn, and well
Remembered for the virtues
And husbands in the war

Fallen woman--fall, and women
Harvests sown and reaped
Moon of full, of wax, of
Her heart of Shadow's seed

Hand of diamond and of band
Ashes, ashes, dust
A love once lived and now, one
The pages' faces face us
And sages burn, away
First in awhile. Hello again
your mom Mar 2018
Dear Best Friend,
Thank you for the happiness you've given me.
You've been the only spark of light in my darkness before,
and for that, I'm forever thankful.
You keep me smiling when I don't want to,
and keep me up when I want to shut down.
Thank you for not letting me shut down.

Dear Best Friend,
Do you even realize how beautiful you really are?
Your beauty, grace, and kindness shine through any trial put in front of you.
To me, you're just as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside.
I love my beautiful best friend.

Dear Best Friend,
I'm almost done with my thank you, and I wanted to end it like this:
You've given me more than I deserve.
You've given me second chances,
and thirds when I can't seem to get it right.

You've given me the backbone I need to keep myself up,
a helping hand when I needed the support,
and an ear when I needed someone to listen.
You've been there for me through every heartbreak,
every cry, every tear, and every doubt.
You've been my saving grace.
You help me more than you know.

Dear Best Friend,
Thank you for all that you do.
I love you.
"Love" By: Anna Akhamtova


То змейкой, свернувшись клубком,
У самого сердца колдует,
То целые дни голубком
На белом окошке воркует,

То в инее ярком блеснёт,
Почудится в дреме левкоя...
Но верно и тайно ведёт
От радости и от покоя.

Умеет так сладко рыдать
В молитве тоскующей скрипки,
И страшно её угадать
В ещё незнакомой улыбке.



First, as a serpent, it’ll cast its spell
Next to your heart, curled up.
Then, it’ll come as a dove, as well,
Cooing for days, nonstop.

In the frost, it’ll show itself curtly,
Or in the drowsing field of carnations…
To escort you covertly and firmly
Away from all rest and elation.

In the prayer of a violin yearning,
So sweetly, it’ll sob for a while,
And how frightening it is to discern it
In a yet unfamiliar smile.

Translated by: Andrey Kneller
I do not own this writing nor do I claim to own this writing. This is a poem from another one of my favorite Russian poets if you haven't guessed her name is Anna Akhamtova. I did not translate this poem into English so sorry if the translation is off. But I love how she used her words to show how love is. Sorry that I keep saying the name of the original author but I just don't want to take credit for something that isn't mine.
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